“Yes; but it’s hard work, for everything is so different here, and the boys are not like you.”
“Oh yes, they are,” cried Glyn merrily; “just the same. Here, come on; let’s go down and see whether Wrench has put up those forms by the wall. We want to see the show.”
“Yes,” cried Singh. “It puts one in mind of Dour again, and I have been thinking that we don’t get on with the other boys through me.”
“What do you mean with your ‘through me’?” said Glyn.
“Well, I don’t quite know. It’s because I am an Indian, I suppose; and when they talk to me as they do, and bully me, as you call it, it makes my heart feel hot and as if I should like to do something strange. But I am going to try. And look here, Glyn,” said the lad very seriously, “I shall begin at once.”
“Begin what?”
“Trying to make them like me. I shall make friends with that big fellow Slegge, and bear it all, and if he goes on again like he did this morning I have quite made up my mind I won’t fight.”
“Oh,” said Glyn drily. “Well, come on down the grounds now. We shall see.”